Thursday, November 10, 2011


What's the fuel in our tanks, what wind fills up our sails?
What drummer drum drumming, what bread crumbs on our trails?
And who filled this chalice, the one we knocked over?
How'd I get so lucky, setting matches to clover?

We're sitting on tables, and we're standing on chairs,
I make all the wrong jokes, and you just flip your hair.
All your glitter and sex, all my words and my charm,
Can't fill up a life time, but sure can't do no harm...

We'll take every exit, we'll crash every party,
You're Marilyn Monroe, I'm Dean Moriarty.
Take my hand! (and, What else?), I'll take the same from you.
All these plans that we've made, Who cares that it's new?

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